My So-Called Sex Life

Keeping Abreast of My Keys

It was one of those days Monday where I was feeling far from sexy. While on one hand my writing career really felt alive (thanks to an animation pitch that has generated quite a bit of interest) my hair and my clothes were about as dead as I was going to be if I couldn't get my daughter to school on time. You see, it was the big Stick Bug presentation, but Mama couldn't find the keys to the car to save her life. "Mommy, I wrote in the journal and everrrrrrythiiiiiiinnnngggggggg," she whined as I attempted to find those suckers.

"Rex! Rex! Please be a second set of eyes for me, will ya?" I squealed, frantically searching the office... the kitchen... the bedroom.... Hell, I even checked the fridge near the Diet Coke and under the Mothers Animal cookies I swore I wouldn't touch since Sunday's bbq but of course ate by the fistfuls anyway. No such luck.

"Where did you leave them last?" Rex asked before ducking his 6'3 frame under my desk.

I wanted to scream, "If I knew that I wouldn't be asking for help, Dorkface!" But of course he was being helpful. And he's the most handsome man I know - far from dorky.

Besides, it's not his fault that practical, steady eddy, never-a-hair-out-of-place Rex ended up with mad-scramble/do too much/over-extend herself but if she doesn't pack on the activities she'd die of housewife boredom/moi.

"I can't believe this!" I shrieked, more to myself than anyone else. I had been so organized - or so I thought! I had prepped both sets of lunches, both back packs, Stink's homework folder, and all stick bug related items at the door the day before. My tv pitches were safely stowed in my binder along with a charged cell phone and directions to the production house. Why today? Why now?

In a desperate attempt to keep from spinning more than I already had, I took a deep breath. I raised my hands above my head in a half prayer/half yoga namaste position. I reached up, exhaled out, and rested my hands on my chest.

They landed on something hard.

Like a magician at a nude review, I pulled out a long pink ribbon. But instead of a scarf, it was none other than my car keys attached to a Dora the Explorer lanyard.

Because where else, hidden comfortably in my luminous cha-chas, would a pair of car keys go?

Then my right breast started ringing. "Ah, that's where the cell phone went," I muttered to myself before hitting mute.

Laughing, Rex patted my butt on his way out the door, "That must be where you left your brain this morning!"

I'd kill him, if he weren't right.

Any other women out there store things in your cleavage? (And no... I DO NOT want to know what you store in your butt. It's only Wednesday and I haven't eaten much.)

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